


Hannibal, But It's a Comedy

by Ooft



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Beverly Katz Lives, Beverly Katz is the Best, Comedy, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, F/F, F/M, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Someone Help Will Graham, This Is STUPID, Will Graham & Beverly Katz Friendship, mockumentary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:08:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27042508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ooft/pseuds/Ooft
Summary: You read the title. It's Hannibal, but they say what we're all thinking.
Relationships: Alana Bloom/Margot Verger, Beverly Katz & Jimmy Price & Brian Zeller, Molly Graham/Will Graham, Will Graham & Beverly Katz, Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 59
Kudos: 124





	1. Man, I Love Bedelia

Will Graham pauses, considering the implications of his conversations with Bedelia Du Maurier. "Is Hannibal... in love with me?" 

The camera cuts to the interview room. Bedelia is preoccupied from the camera, pouring herself a glass of wine that most certainly surpasses a standard serving. She gulps back a mouthful, goes to speak to the camera, then thinks better of it and has another mouthful. 

She turns to the camera and sighs. "I swear to fucking God, if Will Graham asks me one more fucking question about Hannibal Lecter, I am going to lose my fucking marbles. You guys are always asking me why I drink so much on set- you wanna know why? Fucking Will Graham and his stupid fucking questions. 'Is Hannibal in love with me?' Isn't he supposed to be one of the most intelligent men in the FBI?"

Bedelia takes an angry sip of wine and shakes her head. 

"Hannibal Lecter is _beyond_ loving Will Graham. Yet here he is, like a fucking teenage boy, all 'I have some cannibal trying to eat my dick rather than my organs, boo hoo'. Shut up, gay boy. Go talk to your husband about your fucking mental health issues, not me," Bedelia mutters, throwing her head back and gulping down her wine, "I think I need to start having vodka before our sessions, if he keeps coming back. The wine just isn't cutting it anymore. I'm going insane." 

* * *

Bedelia sits in her bedroom, poised on the edge of the bed with her head in her hands. She looks up as the camera comes closer, shaking her head and sighing. "Come back with a margarita if you want me to talk." 

The camera cuts to a shot of someone outside the frame handing Bedelia a margarita. She takes a long sip, lets it sit and faces the camera. 

“I’ve started with the cannibal puns,” she says, a haunted look coming over her face. She stares blankly to the side of the camera lens, shivers, then looks at it again. “So Hannibal invites over his new little boy toy - some handsome British thing, I’m not sure how the hell Hannibal picked him up - and…” 

Bedelia shakes her head and has another mouthful of the margarita. 

“And I made a pun about Hannibal’s… palate. So this man, with his stupid British face, asks me if it’s _that_ kind of party,” she shivers, “and I don’t even know what to tell him, other than it most certainly is _not_ that kind of party.” 

The room is silent for a minute. 

“Oh, _fuck,_ ” Bedelia says. The margarita glass shakes in her hand. “Hannibal is going to kill him, isn’t he?” 

The camera cuts to Hannibal, who is sitting at the desk in his bedroom with a shit-eating grin. “Yes.” 

* * *

“Mate, did you see that leather jacket he was wearing? Fuck. Wonder what he’d look like in another type of leather,” Anthony Dimmond says, winking. 

The camera crew have pulled him away from the party for an interview, though he seems a little anxious to get back, throwing constant glances at the windows, where people can be seen dancing. Hands in his pockets, he bounces on the balls of his feet. 

“He’s very handsome. I lied a little; you know, about the poetry? Yeah,” Anthony bites the inside of his cheek, glancing at the ground and looking at the camera again, smirking, “I may have embellished the time it takes to write. I don’t even write that much of it, anyway, to be perfectly honest. Just wanted to impress him. He looks like he’s got refined taste in men.” 

Laughing can be heard from the camera crew. 

“What?” Anthony asks, chuckling nervously. “What?” 

The crew are too busy punching each other in the arms and wheezing to answer him. 

* * *

Bedelia sighs. “I retired six months ago. Hannibal Lecter still comes to my office.” She gazes out of a window off-camera. “I think if I moved to the other side of the fucking world, Hannibal would move there with me - just so he could annoy me.” 

Uncrossing and recrossing her legs, she turns to the camera again. 

“The next time he comes to my office to talk about Will Graham,” she folds her hands over her knee and leans forward slightly, “I’m going to tell him to leave my office and I am moving to Panama under the name Joy McFerson.” She nods to herself, satisfied with her threat. Under her breath, she mutters, “he’s such a dumb gay bitch.” To the camera, she says, “I hate him.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise a thousand times over. I don't know where this came from. Please comment if you know who has taken the time to curse me with these ideas. 
> 
> Drunk Bedelia? Queen.


	2. You Smelt It, You Dealt It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the stupidest thing I have ever written in my life. I would like to apologise to everyone who knows me and everyone who reads this.

The camera opens with everyone in the BU sitting at the conference table. 

Cut to the interview room, where Jack Crawford sits. He adjusts his tie as he addresses the camera. 

“We were just having an annual get-together, checking our numbers and stats, all that. Then,” Jack shakes his head, sighing, “then  _ it  _ happened.” 

Hannibal now sits in the interview room. 

He clears his throat. “Sometimes… having an acute sense of smell has its disadvantages.” 

Cut back to the conference room. 

Beverly Katz frowns and adjusts the papers in front of her. Beside her, Brain Zeller and Jimmy Price shift in discomfort, putting their hands over their noses. 

“What’s wrong?” Jack asks. He freezes. “Who farted?” 

Will Graham sits with his sleeve over his face. He stands up and walks over to the window, scrabbling desperately to undo the latch. 

“Will, get that damn window open!” Jack shouts. 

“I’m trying!” Will yells back, trying to unlock the latch of the window with two hands. “Fuck!” 

Hannibal sits at the conference table, hands over his mouth and looking very ill. He rocks back and forth slowly in his chair. 

Jack stomps over to the window and shoves Will out of the way, undoing the latch and throwing the window open. Immediately, everyone rushes over and tries to stick their head out, pulling each other back or pushing to the side and making room. 

Hannibal still sits in his seat, rocking back and forth, eyes closed and murmuring a prayer. 

Jack steps away from the window and smells the air, then shakes his head and goes to the door of the conference room. “This is a fucking bio-hazard,” he mutters to the camera on his way past. 

“Alright, who did it?” Alana Bloom asks, looking between everyone. 

Everyone begins talking at once, pointing fingers and swearing. 

Hannibal still sits at the conference table, looking sick. 

Cut to the interview room, where the camera switches between different BU members. 

“It was Brian,” says Beverly Katz. 

“It was Brian,” says Jimmy Price. 

“Honestly? Brian,” Will Graham says, “the way he looked… I dunno. Seemed kinda fake.” 

“Brian, everyone’s saying it was you,” the camerawoman says. 

Brian looks horrified. “What the fuck? I swear to God, I could never- no. Just no.” 

“Who was it then?” The camerawoman asks. 

“Don’t tell him,” Brain says, glancing around the interview room and leaning toward the camera with his hand cupped around his mouth as he lowers his voice, “but I think it was Jack.” 

Jack sits in the interview room, visibly fuming. “Zeller said what?” He pulls his phone from his pocket and brings up Brian’s contact in his phone. “Someone has a lot of explaining to do.” 

The camera cuts to Brian, sitting in the break room with Beverly Katz and Jimmy Price, holding the phone away from his ear and wincing. Jack’s shouting can be heard through the speaker. 

Cut to the interview room, where Hannibal sits, legs crossed, lips pursed and silent. 

“Doctor Lecter?” The cameraman asks. 

Hannibal stirs. “Apologies. I’m just trying to recuperate after having my senses so violently assaulted.” 

“Who do you think did it?” The cameraman asks. 

“It would be foolish of me to make assumptions,” Hannibal says, “I was too busy trying to preserve my senses to notice who may have done it. I think… I think I may call in absent tomorrow. Please excuse me.” 

Hannibal stands up and leaves the interview room. A moment later, Alana comes in and sits down, grinning. 

“No one ever suspects the fashion queen,” she says to the camera with a wink, “I had Mexican last night.” 

The camera crew erupt with laughter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course it was Alana.


	3. The Great Red... Scaly?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one's gonna talk about the fact that my man Francis is a scaly? 
> 
> Fair enough, I guess.

The camera opens at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane (BSHCI), where Hannibal and Will Graham stand at Hannibal’s cell. 

“This is a very shy boy, Will,” Hannibal says. 

The camera cuts to the door just outside Hannibal’s cell. Will shuffles uncomfortably and rubs his arm, glancing around to make sure him and the camera crew are alone. 

“I don’t know what’s worse: the name ‘Tooth Fairy’ or ‘Shy Boy’.” Will frowns. “Maybe it’s because of the way he says it? I dunno. Hannibal’s fucking weird. But yeah, it sounds like he has a crush on this dude or something,” Will wrinkles his nose, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he does, actually, to be completely honest with you.” 

The camera cuts to Hannibal in his cell. 

He smirks. “Oh, Will  _ wishes  _ I had feelings for this shy boy. It would take my attention off him.” 

Cut to Will, sitting on his bed at his hotel room. 

“Well,” he says, “that’s pretty fucking gay.” 

There’s silence for a minute. 

“Yeah. It’s a good thing I’m married and have a son. Who knows what would happen if I didn’t, right?” Will gives the cameraman a trying smile. 

Someone coughs off-screen. 

“Anyway,” Will says, standing up from his bed and clapping his hands, “who wants a drink?” 

* * *

In the interview room, Jack Crawford holds a newspaper up for the camera. After a few seconds, the camera lens focuses, revealing the headline  _ ‘All Hail The Great Red Scaly!’  _

“If this doesn’t piss him off,” Jack says, “I don’t know what will.” 

“How-” Coughed laughter comes from the camerawoman. “How do you know what a scaly is?” 

Jack sighs. “Don’t ask.” 

The camera cuts to Beverly Katz, who sits with her head in her hands. 

“So the other day - oh my God, this is so stupid - I was talking to Brian, Will and Jimmy.” Beverly stops speaking, laughing nervously. Once she has composed herself, she sighs and pulls her phone out. “Here, just look at this.” 

Her whole screen is censored, but the camera crew all gasp. 

Beverly nods at them, acknowledging their (most likely) horrified expressions. 

“Now, I was trying to explain scalies to Jimmy, right?” Beverly says. 

She waits for the camera crew to say something in affirmation. 

“Yeah,” one man says off-screen. 

“Right. So Brian’s confused too. Will- Will somehow knows about it. I don’t know why, but he has an idea of what they are, so he was trying to help me explain. Anyway, I showed Jimmy and Brian that photo of the naked dragon-guy, right? The one I just showed you guys?” Beverly sighs and buries her face in her hands, then looks back up again with a defeated smile. “Jack saw.” 

“Holy shit,” the cameraman says. 

“Understatement of the century. Anyway, he saw it and started asking if it was art of the Red Dragon dude and if we needed to question whoever drew it and oh my God, it was a whole mess and Will was trying to explain it and Brian was panicking and Jimmy was just stunned stupid and then  _ fucking Alana came  _ and it was just a huge fucking mess,” Beverly laughs at herself, shaking her head and slumping into her chair. “So yeah. That’s why Jack knows what a scaly is.” 

“Wow,” the cameraman says. 

Beverly nods gravely in response. 

The camera cuts to Will, who has been cornered by the camera crew in the breakroom. 

“How do you know what a scaly is?” The camerawoman asks. 

Will gives the camera a confused look. “Why are-  _ oh.  _ The newspaper. Yeah. Bev told you about what happened the other day at lunch? Yep. Oh, wow. Well- fuck, this is gonna sound so suspicious, but a couple years back, I saw some weird mascot things - but like, they weren’t mascots? And so I found out they were furries, and then I couldn’t look away, I just kept... staring. It was like watching a car crash. And yeah. I found out about furries and scalies.” 

“Where did you see the furries?” The camerawoman asks. “Are you on Tumblr?” 

“Oh God no,” Will says, “I was on Twitter. I honestly have no idea how exactly it happened, though. One minute, I was looking at fish baits, the next… I was looking at weird fish people with boobs. Yeah. Not pleasant.” 

“Wow,” the camerawoman says. 

“Wow,” Will echoes back. 

* * *

The camera cuts to Hannibal in his cell, taking a phone call. 

As Hannibal listens to whoever is on the other end of the line, the camera swings around to face Jack and Alana, who are listening in on loudspeaker. 

Will Graham, Beverly Katz and Frederick Chilton stand nearby, listening as well. 

“Doctor Lecter,” Francis Dolarhyde says, “you have to get them to not call me the Great Red Scaly anymore.” 

The camera cuts briefly to Jack Crawford outside Hannibal’s cell, alone in front of the door. “Mission accomplished.” 

Back in Hannibal’s viewing section, Beverly Katz and several camera crew members cackle, though stifle their laughter when Jack gives them a sharp look. Will Graham has tears in his eyes from holding back his own giggles, his hand covering his mouth as he shakes violently. His resolve crumbles and he leaves the room. His laughter can be heard very faintly through the closed door. Frederick has a distasteful look on his face, shuffling between his feet uncomfortably. 

“I will try my best to remedy your issue,” Hannibal says. 

The next day, another newspaper article is published about ‘the Great Red Scaly’. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what I'm doing, but I've been depressed and suffering from writer's block all fucking week and for some reason this is my new passion project. 
> 
> Three updates in less than twenty-four hours. Someone end me. Please.


	4. Cheese(y) Folk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal is such a fucking hypocrite and I love him for it. 
> 
> Fuck Franklyn, for real. Mans was annoying as shit and the most disturbing thing in the show.

“I discovered we’re Cheese-Folk!” Franklyn Froideveaux says to Hannibal, grinning. 

Hannibal does not look remotely impressed, but nods anyway. 

“I saw you shopping for cheese,” Franklyn continues. 

As he speaks, the camera focuses on Hannibal’s blank expression, a camera person snickering quietly when Hannibal side-views the camera and rolls his eyes. 

Cut to Hannibal, sitting in the interview room with a bored frown. 

“It appears Franklyn is stalking me,” he says, picking under his nails, “what can be done about that, I wonder?” He gives the camera an evil smile, then stands and leaves the room. 

The camera crew shuffle around off-screen. 

Someone's arm appears at the side of the screen, but nothing more. “Is he gonna kill Franklyn? Should we stop him?” 

"I wouldn't worry," someone else replies. 

"No, Hannibal _jokes_ about killing people. He'd never actually _do it_ or anything,” another person says. 

Cut to a later time, where Hannibal is being interviewed again. 

"I'm having a dinner party tonight," he says, smiling, "you're all invited." 

* * *

Franklyn is being interviewed outside of the opera house. Tobias Budge stands beside him, hands behind his back. 

"I can't believe Hannibal was here tonight!" Franklyn says to the camera, bouncing on the balls of his feet and grinning like a garden gnome. 

"You knew he would be here," Tobias says, eyebrow raised in question. 

"Well… yeah. But I can't believe he spoke to me!" Franklyn claps his hands a little. 

"You _did_ speak to him first," Tobias reminds Franklyn, "it'd be kind of rude for him to not acknowledge you." 

"Yeah, but remember my last psychiatrist? _She_ didn't speak to me in public at all!" Franklyn says. 

Tobias frowns at the camera. 

Franklyn has gone back inside the opera house, leaving Tobias alone with the camera crew. 

“And he wonders why his therapists hate him,” Tobias says with a long sigh, “he’s… stalked a few of them, for lack of a better term.” 

The camera cuts to footage of Franklyn hiding behind potted plants and park benches, following his past therapists in various locations, such as the mall and the street. He is doing a horrible job of keeping hidden and his therapists often glance back and see him, before ducking away into alleys. Franklyn always loses them in the end, searching around inside garbage cans and looking flustered. 

Cut back to Tobias, who nods. “Yeah. It’s bad.” 

* * *

Hannibal sits at his office desk, hands folded and back straight. 

“Franklyn is by far my worst patient,” Hannibal says, “and one of my old patients was a young man who believed himself to be an extinct European bear.” 

“What did you think of being compared to Michael Jackson?” The cameraman asks. 

Hannibal laughs. “I don’t even know who he is.” 

“Seriously?” The cameraman asks. “You don’t know MJ?” 

“I haven’t listened to modern rock, popular or alternative music for the last thirty years of my life. Well, other than when Will put on - I believe they call her ‘Britney Spears’ - on the radio one time he was driving us to a crime scene,” Hannibal says. 

“Oh my God,” someone says to the left of the camera. “Was he- was he singing along?” 

“No,” Hannibal gives the cameraman a meaningful look, “but he didn’t turn it off.” 

“Someone get hold of his Spotify!” One of the crew members yell off-screen. 

Another voice replies, “already on it!” 

Hannibal gives the camera a shit-eating grin. Running and excited chatter can be heard in the background as the camera crew run amok. 

"I've got it!" Someone yells. 

All hell breaks loose. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FRANKLYN IS SO FERAL I'M SORRY BUT HE MAKES ME WANNA SCREAM-
> 
> Sorry. Outburst there. If you think I'm not furiously writing a chapter about music right now, you are sorely wrong. 
> 
> I took some dialogue directly from the script at thelivingdeadguy.com, if anyone was curious.


	5. Road Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe Will knows how to use Spotify.

Will Graham sits in the interview room, looking confused. 

“What’s going on?” He asks. 

“We were actually just wondering if you had music recommendations for the audience,” the camerawoman says. 

“Oh. Okay. Why?” Will frowns. 

“Well, you’re constantly on the road for work. We figured you’d have a banging playlist,” someone pipes up. 

He sits in silence for a few moments, processing the request. “Oh, well I usually listen to Pearl Jam, Johnny Cash and Dolly Parton. That’s about it, really. Some Nirvana sometimes, a bit of Powderfinger and Silverchair. Yeah. AC/DC as well. Uh, fuck, I dunno, Billy Joel, the Beatles, Garth Brooks, even just Eddie Vedder by himself is great, actually, yeah, and… that’s it, really.” Will chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m not very hip, I know. It’s mostly stuff my dad listened to.” 

“What about Britney Spears?” The camerawoman asks. 

“What about her?” Will gives the camera a bewildered look, eyebrows furrowed and an uneasy smile playing at his lips, 

“Hannibal told us you played him Britney Spears in the car,” someone says. 

“Did he tell you guys he liked it?” Will asks, relaxing and leaning forward in his seat, smiling. “I tried to see if I could get a reaction out of him, but he was just staring out the windshield.” 

The camera crew start laughing. “You were tricking him?” 

“Well, yeah,” Will says, “you think he’s gonna enjoy Nirvana? I mean, Pearl Jam  _ could  _ work, but I thought I’d fuck around with him a bit.” 

“We thought you were being serious!” Someone says. 

Will laughs shaking his head. “Oh  _ fuck _ no. I’m trying to screw around with Hannibal as much as I can when we’re driving. I wanna see how long I can last before he strangles me.” 

“Someone get a camera in Will’s car!” The camerawoman calls. 

“On it!” A crew member yells back. 

Will gives the camera a wink. “I’m playing death metal tomorrow.” 

* * *

The camera in Will’s car is slightly blurry, but him and Hannibal Lecter are still visible, their facial expressions only a little distorted. 

Will reaches over to the speakers and puts on his Spotify. Death metal blasts out. 

“Shit,” Will says as he turns it down, though the audio is barely picked up over the sheer screeching of the music. 

Hannibal winces as the volume is lowered. “I didn’t know you took pleasure in such… loud music.” 

Cut to the interview room, where Will sits, looking very proud of himself. 

“He’s losing his shit,” Will says. 

The camera goes back to the car, where Will cruises, tapping and nodding his head along (out of beat) to the screaming of the music. Hannibal’s lips are pursed and he stares intently at the floor, shifting in his seat constantly. 

“You okay?” Will asks when Hannibal shuffles for the third time in a minute. 

“Of course,” Hannibal says, nodding. 

“Okay,” Will says, turning back to face the road and stop himself from laughing at Hannibal’s sour expression. 

When they get to the crime scene, it’s as though Hannibal can’t get out of the car fast enough. He makes a beeline for Alana Bloom, engaging her in conversation before Will has even opened his car door. 

Beverly Katz walks over to Will, staring after Hannibal, her eyebrows furrowed. 

“Is Hannibal okay?” Beverly asks. 

“Yeah,” Will says. “I played death metal in the car today.” 

“I thought you were kidding about that!” Beverly yells. She punches him in the arm. “You should’ve told me, I would’ve made a playlist for you!” 

Will shakes his head, risking a glance at Hannibal, who is absorbed in conversation with Alana. “Keep it down! I don’t want him finding out.” 

Jimmy Price and Brian Zeller walk over, standing a few wary metres away from Beverly and Will. 

“You guys okay?” Brian asks. 

“Whose music do you guys hate the most?” Beverly asks. 

“What?” Jimmy and Brian exchange bewildered looks. 

Beverly sighs and pulls out a notepad from her pocket. “Will is pranking Hannibal with his car music. I need a list of everything you guys hate, so I can put it on a playlist for him. Then I'm just gonna put some random shit on there.” 

Grinning, Brian and Jimmy excitedly list off all the music they can come up with. After a while, Jack Crawford wanders over. 

"Alright people, what're we doing here? This is a crime scene," he gives Jimmy and Brian a sharp look as he grabs Will's shoulder and begins pulling him over to look at the recent family murder. "Cameras? You coming?" 

* * *

The camera is in Will's car again. Now, he's playing raunchy country music, nodding along to the overly sexual lines and acting as though he's really getting into it. Hannibal looks deeply disturbed. 

Another time, they listen to Taylor Swift. 

After that, Tupac. 

Hannibal looks close to tears when Will puts on Green Day. 

The camera cuts to the interview room. Will sits, grinning. 

"Hannibal is slowly losing it," Will says, "Beverly saved me with that playlist. I was so ready to come clean when I ran out of material, but she added forty hours' worth of stuff on there." 

"Forty hours?" The camerawoman asks. 

"Forty fucking hours," Will says. 

A week later, Will and Hannibal are driving. Remixed opera music is playing. 

Will keeps glancing over at Hannibal as they drive, turning away with a hidden smile as he bites the inside of his cheek. 

One time when he glances over, he does a double-take. 

"Hannibal, are you-" Will pulls the car over and leans in, looking at Hannibal's face. "Why're you crying?" 

"Hayfever," Hannibal says, but his voice cracks and he sniffles. 

"Jesus Christ, I didn't mean to make you cry-" Will scrabbles at the radio, turning it off. He swears when it doesn't work, opting to mute the volume instead. "I'm sorry, I really didn’t think it would upset you  _ that  _ much." 

"It's fine," Hannibal says, swallowing his tears back. 

Will considers the road, but turns back to Hannibal instead. "Why don't we stop for coffee before we get to Jack?" 

"Alright," Hannibal says. 

"And you can pick the music," Will says. 

Hannibal shakes his head. "I wouldn't ask that of you-" 

"I'm serious." Will hands his phone to Hannibal, which is opened on Spotify. "Put something on." 

A short time later, they're driving with classical music softly crooning in the background. 

* * *

Hannibal sits in the interview room, grinning. 

"Will has fallen into my trap," he announces. 

"What trap?" The cameraman asks. 

"You didn't all think I was crying over the opera music, did you?" Hannibal asks, laughing in disbelief in a way that indicates the crew were shaking their heads and shrugging. "I was tricking him! I will say, though, if he ever plays that horrific 'remixed' music again, I will strangle him with my bare hands." 

"So what now?" The cameraman asks. 

Hannibal doesn't respond, only smiling wider at the camera. 

Cut to Will's car. Him and Hannibal are listening to the Wiggles. Will is gripping the wheel like it's his lifeline, jaw clenched and arms stiff. Hannibal gazes through the passenger window, smiling smugly to himself. 

In the interview room, Will stares down the camera lens. 

"That motherfucker," Will says. "I can't even be angry with him. I should've known-  _ God fuck.  _ I should've known he'd turn it around. Now we're stuck listening to fucking kids' music, because I'm gonna feel bad if I tell him to change it. Fucking hell." 

"Can I get an F in the chat?" One crew member asks. The rest of the crew mumble in response. 

A silence falls over the room as the crew pay their respects to their fallen comrade. 

"Thanks, guys," Will says at the end, wiping away imaginary tears, "I'm so grateful for your support in these difficult times." 

"No more pranking Hannibal?" Someone asks. 

Will laughs. "Not by me, anyway." 

Cut to Beverly in the interview room, holding out a box of paper plates, bowls, cups and cutlery. 

"I'm looking forward to Hannibal's next dinner party," she says, winking at the camera. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHY HAS THIS DEVELOPED A STORYLINE LMFAO
> 
> Please don't bully the music taste, Will and I are the same person in this (besides the country, but I do love me some Johnny Cash and Dolly at the best of times)


	6. Gonna Party Like it's 1899

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I said in the 3rd chapter that there was a dinner party happening! (Yes, the 1899 in the title was intentional. Sue me, Prince-lovers).

Hannibal Lecter sits in the interview room, a stack of letters balanced on his knee. 

“I’m having a dinner party tonight,” Hannibal says, “and you’re all invited.” 

The next few shots are following Hannibal around the building as he invites everyone in the BU crew to his house for a dinner party. Special attention is given to the recipients who take the envelope and give Hannibal disgruntled looks as they open it. Inside are letters, folded neatly into three and written on with gold ink. 

Someone random that we’ll never see again stands in the interview room. 

“Is the theme for this party ‘1899’?” They ask. 

“Should I put on my fucking toga tonight?” Someone else asks. “Apparently we’ve gone back to ancient times.” 

Hannibal has just given his final invitation to Jack Crawford and is now standing outside his office. 

“Unfortunately, Will isn’t in today,” Hannibal says, frowning, “but I think I may have a way to contact him.” 

Cut to that night. Will Graham stands outside Hannibal’s house with the crew. 

“I wasn’t at work today,” Will says, “so Hannibal sent me his invitation via carrier pigeon.” 

Footage comes up of a crew member filming Will from a distance, zooming in as he steps out of his house in a shirt and boxers to find a pigeon sitting on his porch. He goes to walk back inside, but the pigeon chases him and swoops at his feet. Leaning down, he grabs the envelope from the pigeon and watches as it flies away, shaking his head and tearing open the envelope when the bird is out of sight. 

Cut back to Will, standing outside Hannibal’s house. 

“I’m not even surprised, to be completely honest with you. Actually, I’m a little impressed,” Will says. “Training a whole-ass pigeon? To deliver mail? It’s fucking weird, but very Hannibal.” 

“How are you feeling about the party tonight?” The cameraman asks. 

Will sighs. “If Hannibal wasn’t so annoying about the last time I missed a party, I would’ve skipped this one too. I think I’m gonna spend the night getting drunk with Jimmy.” 

Cut to footage of Jimmy Price, his face lighting up at the sight of all the fancy booze sitting on the table. 

“Shit-faced for free!” Jimmy tells the camera as he pours himself a shot of tequila. 

Clips of the party come up, people dancing and drinking, picking away at finger food. Hannibal is watching the whole thing, looking proud of himself. His smile drops when he spots Will and Jimmy, who have gotten horrendously drunk and are trying to climb on top of his dining table, cradling the decoration skulls to their necks and crooning in a jumbled, slurred attempt at French opera. 

Jack gets them down from the table and drags them out by the ears. A secret camera hidden in Jack’s car shows him trying to stuff Will and Jimmy into seatbelts, both of them protesting and pushing him away. Jack finally manages to secure the two of them, climbing into the front seat and locking the car doors before the two drunk men can escape. 

The cameras alternate between the tipsy shenanigans of the party-goers and the drunken yelling of Will and Jimmy, singing along to the music on the radio, despite Jack having turned it off over half an hour ago. At one point, while stopped at a red light, Jack smacks his face into the steering wheel of his car and sighs. 

The footage of the car and the party finish. A time-lapse is used to establish it’s morning, and the cameras then cut to clips of Will and Jimmy. 

Both of them lie on their couches at home, tucked in with blankets and each with a pillow under their head. Winston licks Will’s face and he starts to wake up, so the camera person takes off and begins running for their van, yelling at the driver. The camera shows as Will takes a few groggy steps onto his porch and watches the van go. 

Cut to Jack, sitting in his office and reading through the hundreds of emails he’s received about people having a hangover from last night and needing the day off. 

“When I see Doctor Lecter, I’m going to kill him,” Jack tells the camera. 

Beverly Katz sits in the interview room, box of paper plates in her lap again. 

“I missed my chance yesterday,” she says, “but the next time he has a party… I can’t guarantee the safety of his dinner set.” 

Will shuffles into the interview room, dishevelled and rubbing his eyes. 

“Hey, Bev,” he says. 

“You look like shit,” Beverly tells him. 

Will grins. “You should see Jimmy.” 

Cut to Jimmy, who’s drunk at work and is having a conversation with one of the dead bodies Brian Zeller is cutting open. 

Back to Will and Beverly. 

“Yeah,” Will says to the camera. 

“Jesus,” Beverly mutters. 

“I think when Jack finds out,” Will says, “Jimmy will need more than Jesus to save him.” 

As if on cue, Jack roars Jimmy’s name. The shutters on the windows shake with the sheer force of his shouting. 

“Oh, fuck,” Jimmy slurs to the camera. 

“‘Oh, fuck’ indeed,” Beverly mutters. 

Will does the sign of the cross and the camera crew can all be heard murmuring prayers. 

Apparently God doesn't hear them, because a minute later, Jack can be heard in his office screaming at Jimmy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really building up the suspense for Bev's prank here, huh? 
> 
> We love Uncle Jack (kinda - he was a dick season one and half of season two but otherwise he's a softie and I love him).


	7. Lobster for Dinner, Death for Dessert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes... the dreaded plate prank.

Hannibal Lecter stands in his kitchen, looking mighty-pissed. His arms are crossed, his brow is furrowed harshly enough to give him permanent wrinkles and his jaw is set firm. 

After a few moments of indignant silence, he speaks. “All my dinner sets have been replaced.” 

The camera moves closer and tilts down to look at the benchtop in front of Hannibal, revealing the paper plates and plastic cups that are all stacked up. 

Tilt back to Hannibal, who seems just about ready to kill someone. 

“I’m going to kill whoever did this,” he says. 

Cut to Beverly Katz, sitting with a box of fine china and a gun in her hands. 

“I’d love to see what Hannibal will do for his precious dinner sets.” She smirks and cocks her gun. “Come at me, you big, fancy bastard.” 

“This is  _ not  _ a good idea,” Will Graham says as he comes into the room and pulls up a chair beside Beverly. 

“Just because your music prank went wrong, it doesn’t mean mine is going to,” Beverly responds, rolling her eyes. 

Will frowns. “He is going to kill you, you know?” 

“He can only do that if he hasn’t already had a heart attack over his missing plates,” Beverly says. 

“I’m gonna start taking bets,” Will says to the camera, “get everyone to place money on who they think will win and under what conditions they do so.” 

Beverly scoffs. “Everyone’s gonna bet on me, and I’m gonna win, so you’re not even gonna make any money. Have fun with your interview, Mr Doubts-A-Lot.” 

Beverly grabs the china plate box and leaves with it. 

“Alright everyone, pay up. Who’s gonna win?” Will stands up and grabs money from crew members off screen, the murmurs of their bets muffled by editing. 

Will returns to stand in front of the camera. 

“Twenty for Hannibal to win, but I say Bev gets shots in with her gun first,” he says, grinning. 

A montage is shown as Will goes around collecting money from everyone in the BU crew, pocketing it and waving to the camera occasionally. 

Jack Crawford sits in the interview room. 

“Why the hell is Will Graham taking bets on Beverly Katz and Doctor Lecter fighting?” He asks, arms crossed and left eyebrow raised threateningly. 

“Beverly Katz is pulling a prank on Hannibal and he’s threatened to kill her,” a cameraman answers. 

Jack sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Can someone get Will in here?” 

Cut to a few minutes later. Will stands at the edge of the screen. 

Jack pulls a fifty from his pocket and hands it to Will. “Lecter makes Katz’s body look like a Ripper’s kill, as a joke.” 

Cut to Hannibal. 

“It wouldn’t be a joke,” he says, eyes glinting, grin malicious. “Not at all.” 

* * *

The next day, Beverly and Hannibal don’t show up to work. 

An anonymous tip is sent to the FBI and they drive to the location reported. 

The camera crew follows Jack Crawford through the building to the crime scene and as the scene is revealed, several crew members cry out in horror. 

Beverly is sliced into pieces, each piece stuck to a glass panel and hung up on display. 

“Why the hell does it smell like sugar in here?” Someone mutters. 

Cut to Brian Zeller, standing in the corner of the room and shaking his head, jaw slack with astonishment. 

“Remind me to never get on Hannibal’s bad side, I mean-” he shakes his head again, “Jesus fucking Christ.” 

Jimmy Price comes and puts a hand on Brian’s shoulder. 

“We have to get her down,” Jimmy says. 

“Yeah,” Brian takes a deep, shuddering breath and follows Jimmy through the room to the glass panels. 

Gloves on, they go to see if they can pull her body from the glass, but both freeze suddenly. 

After a moment of confused silence, Jimmy pulls a knife from his pocket and presses it to Beverly’s skin, slicing through easily. 

“What the fuck?” Jimmy cuts another part of Beverly’s body. 

“It’s a fucking cake!” Brian yells. 

They pull apart more of Beverly’s body to find it made of cake, the skin and clothes crumbling away at their fingers. 

The camera swings around to face the door of the room and Hannibal and Beverly walk through, smiling and waving. Audible gasps come from all over the room and everyone watches in stunned silence as Hannibal takes the knife from Jimmy and begins slicing the rest of Beverly’s cake-body up, serving each piece on the (paper) plates that Beverly hands him. 

People take the plates from Hannibal and Beverly with a muttered ‘thanks’, unsure of whether they should eat it or not. 

The only person who doesn’t look remotely surprised is Will, who just takes one look at Hannibal and Beverly, before sighing and leaving without a word. 

Cut to the corner of the room, where Beverly and Hannibal are being interviewed. 

“Prank successful!” Beverly pumps her fist, doing a little victory dance. “Double-pranked, motherfuckers! How does it feel?” 

“Double pranked?” The camerawoman asks. 

Beverly grins. “Well, I didn’t plan the plate prank with Hannibal. That was totally real.” 

“We did bake the cake together, however,” Hannibal says. “I quite like Beverly. I thought it may have been a better alternative to killing her. That reminds me,” he gives the camera a small, knowing smile, winking, “it’s always good to bake with a friend.” 

Footage comes up of people eating their cake slowly with shell shocked expressions. They’re invited to the interview corner to speak. 

“I don’t even know what to say,” Alana Bloom stammers, “I’m speechless.” 

“We are  _ so  _ getting Bev back for this,” Jimmy says, exchanging a look with Brian, who nods vigorously in agreement. 

Jack sighs. “I work with assholes.” 

“Fucking awesome prank,” says a random investigator. 

“This is gonna go fucking viral online,” a millennial technician says, waving their phone in the air. 

“I don’t even know if I should be eating this,” says an investigator, holding up a piece of cake that was made to look like part of Beverly’s chest. 

Cut to the next day, where Will stands in the carpark of the BU quarters. 

“Everyone was so distracted by Hannibal and Bev last night that they forgot to ask for their betting money back,” Will says. “Yay for me.” 

The camera cuts to footage of him carrying several bags of fancy dog food out of a pet store, as well as two dogs. 

“Money well spent,” he tells the camerawoman. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry. So sorry. Again, I'm sorry. 
> 
> Seriously though, my girl Beverly was not the best character in both the show and book, only to fucking die. I refuse to accept that. Sis is alive and well. 
> 
> Also, we love the cannibalism puns in this house. 'Baking with a friend?' Hannibal, babe, stop it; you're killing me (though I can't say I'm complaining).


	8. Loose Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some random thoughts about things. Oh, and what the fuck happened to Miriam Lass?

The camera shows Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter driving along in Will’s car. They’ve just left the museum after displaying Randall Tier’s body. 

After a few moments of silence, Will turns the radio on. 

‘Maneater’ by Hall and Oates comes on. Will switches radio stations. 

‘Cannibal’ by Kesha comes on. Will frowns and switches radio stations again. 

‘Jeffrey Dahmer’ by Soulfly comes on. 

With a long sigh, Will bangs his head into the steering wheel of the car and sits still for a moment, before reaching over and flicking the radio off. Hannibal is biting back a smile. 

“Don’t you fucking start,” Will grunts to Hannibal as he continues driving. 

* * *

Molly Graham sits in a living chair in her and Will’s home. A dog sits in her lap, another two nosing at her feet and legs as they try to get her attention. 

“I didn’t realise Will was such a big deal, to be honest,” Molly laughs breathlessly, looking around at the cameras and microphones off-screen, “a whole-ass camera crew following his every move?” 

“Has Will told you much about his work?” The cameraman asks. 

Molly shrugs. “He’s told me a bit. I never pushed it. I remember a couple years back - you know, when he got charged for murder? Yeah, well, I saw his photo in the paper and I thought he was  _ way  _ too cute to  _ actually  _ be a serial killer.” 

The dogs snuffle in agreement. 

“Turns out I was right after all!” Molly says, grinning. 

* * *

Molly lays in her hospital bed, monitors beeping around her. 

“After dealing with Francis Dolarhyde?” Molly nods to herself and considers the question the camerawoman has asked her off-mic. “I’ve realised how fucking wrong I was. No one’s too cute to be a serial killer.” 

* * *

Brian Zeller and Jimmy Price sit in the interview room. 

“Okay, but seriously,” Brain says, lowering his voice and leaning in toward the camera, “what the fuck happened to Miriam Lass?” 

The camera cuts to show footage of Miriam sitting in class, eating in the cafeteria and wandering around the building, chatting with her friends. 

Now, she stands in the interview room. 

“Yeah, I’m getting used to the prosthetic arm. I got recycled by the FBI, but Jack Crawford offered me a position in a class, so that’s been good,” she says. 

“What about Doctor Chilton?” The cameraman asks. 

“Oh, I lied about remembering. I just wanted to shoot him,” Miriam says. As an afterthought, she adds, “I don’t remember anything from in the pit. Like, at all.” 

“What did you think when you heard Chilton was alive?” The cameraman asks. 

Miriam shrugs. “It was still satisfying to shoot him.” 

The camera cuts to Jack Crawford. 

“I would like to go on-record in saying I did  _ not  _ know Miriam Lass lied about her reason for shooting Doctor Chilton, but I’d like to go off-record and say I completely understand,” he winks at the camera, “but that’s just between us, huh?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Molly and if Hannibal didn't exist (that stupid cannibal slut) I would ship her and Will so fucking hard. 
> 
> And yes, I genuinely hate Hannibal; my man murders people just to get dick. I mean, I respect the grind, but surely there's a better way to do it. Like... I don't know. Anything besides murdering people, really. 
> 
> But yes, I genuinely love Hannibal. I laugh every time his stupid, beautiful face comes up on the screen.


	9. Will Graham But He's Gen Z

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You read the title. It's Hannibal, but they're Gen Z for a chapter (maybe two, this concept is fucking hilarious to me).

The camera opens on Freddie Lounds, sitting at her desk and typing on her laptop.

"Hey, Hannibal," the camera cuts to Freddie's front door, where Will Graham steps through, taking to Hannibal Lecter, who walks in behind him, "do you smell that?"

Hannibal frowns and pauses. "Smell what?"

Freddie stands from her desk, hovering and unsure of what to do.

"It smells like bitch in here!" Will says, grinning at Freddie. 

The camera falls to the ground and shows a tilted view as Freddie draws a gun and points it, firing it off as the footage and audio cuts.

* * *

In the cafeteria, Beverly Katz is scrolling through her phone as she eats her lunch. Will comes to sit down beside her, sliding his phone into her view. 

“Did you hear about what happened with Shane Dawson?” He asks. 

“Oh, what?” Beverly turns her phone off and looks at Will’s. “Oh my God, what the fuck?” 

Will flicks through to something else on the screen. “So, I have a plan.” 

The audio cuts and footage shows Beverly and Will with their heads close together, whispering out a plan and taking notes on their phones. At one point, Alana Bloom goes to join them, but they look so engrossed that she decides against it. 

A time jump happens and shows as Will stands up. He fist bumps Beverly. 

“Eat the rich!” Will yells as he walks out of the cafeteria, throwing his arms up in triumph. 

Cut to Hannibal in the interview room. 

“I wasn’t aware that people could openly be cannibals,” he says. “This new generation never ceases to amaze me.” 

Will now sits in the interview room. 

“What are your thoughts on cannibalism?” The camerawoman asks. 

Will shrugs. “I mean, if they’re dead and wrote it in their will… I’m not gonna say ‘no’ to a dead person’s wishes, am I?” 

Beverly is still in the cafeteria. 

“Oh yeah, I ate my grandma a couple years ago,” she says. “It was okay, I guess. I think I got a part of her leg or something.” 

Cut back to Hannibal in the interview room. 

“Perhaps I should invite them both around for dinner,” he says.

* * *

The camera shows the BU crew in the meeting room, gathered in front of a TV and watching footage of a recent crime. 

The guy on the TV jams his gun into the face of a checkout guy at a local gas station. “Give me your fucking money!” 

Will nudges Beverly, smirking. 

“Dun dun!” She mutters and both of them cackle, hiding their grins away behind closed fists. 

Jack Crawford raises an eyebrow at them and when the footage is finished, he gives Beverly and Will a pointed look. “Is there something funny that you’d like to share with the rest of the group?” 

“Oh, it’s just,” Will makes eye contact with Beverly and starts snickering again, “it’s a Vine.” 

“It’s a what?” Jack asks. 

“The ‘give me your fucking money,’” Will says, “it’s a Vine.” 

“What the hell’s a ‘Vine?’” Jack asks. 

Will tries to bite back laughter and fails, only managing to choke himself. 

“A Vine is a six second video,” Beverly says as she slaps Will’s back. 

“A Gen Z thing,” Will wheezes, wiping the tears from his eyes and clearing his throat. “Don’t worry about it.” 

Jack gives the camera a deep frown, but says nothing more.

* * *

The camera opens on a crime scene, with something written in blood on the wall. Will stands in front of it, reading and shaking his head. Jack sidles up beside him. 

“Can you read it, Will?” Jack asks. 

“Sometimes I wish I was Jared, nineteen,” Will says in a pained voice, walking away without another word. 

Jack gives the camera a bewildered look and goes after him.

* * *

Margot Verger sits in Hannibal’s office, her legs crossed and hands folded. 

“So, what are you going to do about Mason?” Hannibal asks. “Are you going to kill him?” 

“I’m starting a Kickstarter to have him put down,” Margot says, “the benefits of killing him would be that I would get abused way less, so…” 

Hannibal nods. “A sage way of seeing it.” 

“I like to think so too,” Margot says.

* * *

Tobias Budge and Hannibal are fighting in Hannibal’s office, circling around each other and lashing out. Hannibal traps Tobias against the ladder, grabs his arm and wrenches it, yanking it against the side of the ladder and making it give a wet snap as it breaks. 

Tobias falls to the floor, groaning and clutching at his forearm. 

Hannibal stands over him. “I don’t care,” he says, “that you broke your elbow.” He drops the stag statue on Tobias’ head.

* * *

The camera opens outside Will’s house, focused on his front door. The dogs appear in the window, yapping and scratching at the door. 

Switching to a view of Will’s driveway, the camera shows footage of Jack’s SUV driving up. 

Will comes out of his house and gets in the car. The camera switches to view him from the grainy car lens. Grinning, Will leans in close. 

“I’m in me moom’s car,” Wills says in a poor British accent, “broom broom!” 

Jack frowns at him. 

“You’re supposed to tell me to ‘get out me car,’” Will tells him. 

“I’m about to fucking throw you out,” Jack says. “Get it together.” 

Will gives the camera a shit-eating grin. “Aw.” 

Jack sighs and clenches the steering wheel. 

After a few tense minutes of silence, Jack sighs again and points out of the windscreen window. “Road work ahead.” 

“Uh, yeah, I sure hope it does!” Will says, laughing and slapping his knee. 

Jack makes direct eye contact with the camera and clenches his jaw.

* * *

Will stands with Jack in front of a serial killer they’ve just caught. Their surroundings are decrepit, paint peeling from the walls and mould growing in the carpet. Water drips from a wet patch in the ceiling. 

The killer is cuffed and ready to be hauled away when Jack mutters under his breath, “when will they learn?” 

“That their actions have consequences!” Will screeches. 

Him and Jack make searing eye contact, then Will takes off, Naruto running out of the house and to his car, jumping in and driving away before anyone can say anything to him. Dust billows up on the road from beneath his wheels, leaving Jack to stand dejectedly and shake his head in bewilderment. 

Brian Zeller and Beverly watch on, snickering at the sight. 

* * *

Jimmy Price stands in the morgue, frowning at Beverly and Brian. The two of them have just uncovered a body and are staring at it. 

“Miss Keesha?” Beverly says, leaning in for a closer look. “Miss Keesha?” 

“Oh my fuckin’ God,” Brian says, turning to the camera and dropping his voice to a shocked murmur, “she fuckin’ dead.” 

“What the fuck are you guys even talking about?” Jimmy asks. 

“Vine,” Brian and Beverly both answer at the same time, rolling their eyes. 

“I still don’t get what Vine is!” Jimmy says. “What’s the point of it? Six seconds? For a whole video?” 

Beverly nods. “Yeah.” 

“I don’t get it,” Jimmy says, sighing. 

“Boomer,” Brian mutters. 

“Nice one,” Beverly grins at him and they fist bump. 

The camera shows Jimmy miming stabbing the two of them with a scalpel before cutting out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to my mates, who told me their favourite Vines so I could chuck them in here.


End file.
